


Imagination

by Maybethings



Series: May Be Promptin' [137]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Awkward smuttings, Fade to Black, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promptfic. Someone requested Saemus/Ashaad smut. Saemus Dumar has a terrible imagination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imagination

It was the height of summer when Saemus first saw Ashaad without any clothes on. He’d certainly _wondered_ before. All those nights when he’d worked himself into solitary submission, the boy had imagined larger, rougher fingers than his own curled around his cock and what it might feel like to have a Qunari hilted firmly within him at the same time.

His imagination was a poor substitute, that was for certain. Saemus swallowed the warm pool of saliva that had gathered below his tongue, feeling a similar heat gathering in his trousers.

“You stare,” Ashaad said, all wet hair and shoulders, fresh from his bath in the sea. His skin gleamed whitish grey in the sunlight, under the shadow of his warpaint.

“No I’m not. I mean, I _don’t_.” The words came out a little faster, a little jerkier, than he’d intended them to, and he averted his eyes. Until he felt a large shadow fall across him, and a strong hand gripping his chin. When he finally plucked up enough courage to look into those deep-set eyes, he found them unusually kind.

“Is this something you want?” The question was simple, uninflected. But if Saemus wasn’t blushing before, he certainly felt like he was now. Swallowing, he nodded.

“Do…do you…?”

“I would not offer…” He bent so his face was flush with Saemus’ ear, one of his fingers skirting the borderline between shirt, skin and smalls. “…something I could not give. Remove your clothes.”

Piece by piece he shed his garments; the gold-threaded doublet, the trousers, the smalls. All the while, the blood pounded hard in his ears and _other_ interesting places. Only when Ashaad slowly, purposefully kissed him (there was no other word to describe it—the man’s tongue was on its own mission) and teased his eager manhood to attention that he knew it was not a dream. He wanted this; they both did. Very much. Ashaad’s skin was firm but smooth under his fingertips, his salt-and-musk scent growing stronger with every lungful of air. He nuzzled against one dark nipple, a gesture that elicited a rumble in his partner’s chest that he felt down to the tips of his toes. Ashaad promptly gathered him up, skinny pale limbs and all, and marched them away from sand and water to a patch of long grass that could only have been called providence.

Saemus consequently decided he had a terrible, downright insufficient imagination.

**Author's Note:**

> [Starfish loves you, Ashaad.](http://jabberart.tumblr.com/post/25565847275/so-after-a-semi-hectic-week-im-back-and) (Thanks, Jabbers!)


End file.
